Fistful of Feet (8 page)

   Rebecca said, “Uh, okay, well I don’t know if I’ll need it but thank you. I guess.”

   As she opened the door to leave, a man walked through the doorway and bumped into her.

   “Excuse me, miss,” the man said. “That was clumsy of me.”

   “Oh, don’t you worry about it. It was my fault,” Rebecca said. “I’m Rebecca Bywater.”

   “I’m Calamaro,” the man said, taking his hat off.

   Rebecca practically swooned as she looked into Calamaro’s eyes and hoped that he would visit the brothel and become one of her very first customers. “Well, I must be going. It was very nice meeting you, Calamaro.”

   “It was my pleasure, Miss Bywater,” Calamaro said. He pushed the door open for her.

   She left the store and walked quickly back to Betty’s. The run-in with Calamaro made her eager to get to work. Her womanhood was warm and aching for a man. Now all she had to do was find one that’d be a suitable substitute for Calamaro.

* * *

   Tom Duma smiled at Calmaro and said, “Good evening, sir! How can I be of service?”

   “I was told your wife is the one to see for some good food.”

   “Oh that she is. I’ll go get her to make you a plate. Should be no more than ten, fifteen minutes.”

   “Thank you. Tell her she could take her time. I got nowhere to be,” Calamaro said. He stood against the counter behind which was a wide array of medicines, candies, cooking supplies, and bottles full of unidentifiable liquid. He watched Tom Duma walk into the backroom. Then there were voices. The husband softly asked his wife if she could prepare a plate for the stranger. The wife’s sultry but annoyed voice chattered away. She was just about to go upstairs and clean up. She didn’t feel like making any more food. There was another minute of arguing until the wife finally relented. She’d make a small plate of scraps.

   Tom Duma walked out of the backroom with a smile plastered to his face. “Sorry about that, sir. My wife isn’t feeling well but she’ll make you a plate.”

   “Please thank her for me.”

   “I will, I will.” Tom put his palms down on the counter. “Is there anything else I can get you while you wait? We got the best selection of hard candies, Mexican cigars, and even…” He stopped and looked towards the door to the backroom.

   “And even what?”

   Tom Duma whispered. “Ever hear of Ass Juice?”

   Calamaro shook his head.

   “It’s made in the south, hit its peak back before the war. During all the fighting, they didn’t make much of it, though. It’s still hard to come by. You see, it’s made like regular whiskey but once it’s done, they get a whole bunch of dirty, sweaty whores and make them bathe in it. You know, clean up all their girly parts with the whiskey. They sit in it about a week and don’t come out of there for even a minute.”

   “Sounds pleasant,” Calamaro said.

   “Well, personally I don’t touch the stuff. I got a bad stomach. But all the men in town swear by it.” He looked to the backroom again. “The wife doesn’t like me selling it so I have to sneak it. Got a couple bottles left, if you’re interested. Earlier today I actually just sold a bottle to another man from out of town. Is he a friend of yours? Did you come into town together?”

   “No, I came alone,” Calamaro said. “I’m guessing the price is a bit higher than regular whiskey.”

   “A little bit, yes, but Ass Juice is worth it, I’m telling you. I swear you can taste cunny and girl-ass in every sip.” Tom Duma smiled. “Or so I’ve heard.”

   “Maybe another time.”

   “I even have a bottle that’s just full of feet. I mean, they had a bunch of whores just soak their feet in it.”

   “No thanks.”

   “Suit yourself, stranger.”

   Mrs. Duma walked out of the backroom with a plate in her hands. She scowled at the two men and said, “Food’s done.”

   “Thank you, ma’am,” Calamaro said. The plate was practically slammed down in front of him. He dug into the lukewarm meat and corn.

   Tom Duma nodded to his wife and swatted her on the arm. “Make us some coffee, will you?”

   “Oh, of course. Not like I have anything better to do.” She walked out of the room in a huff.

   “Nice lady,” Calamaro said. He smirked. Women like that always confused him. They acted tough but always seemed to want men to treat them like fragile flowers. They should make up their minds.

   “She gets like that sometimes. She can be as sweet as candy, though, hugging and kissing me all over but then all of a sudden she turns into a mean old thing. Good times do make up for the bad ones, though.”

   Calamaro thought about what Mrs. Duma would be like in bed. Did she dominate her husband there, too?

   Soon the plate was empty and Calamaro wiped his mouth on his sleeve. He thanked Tom again.

   “You’re very welcome.” Tom moved his head in close. “Don’t mind me asking but what happened to your ear?”

   Calamaro licked his fingers clean. “A kid shot me.”

   “A kid shot you?”

   “Yep.”

   “He have reason to?”

   Calamaro said, “None that I saw.”

   “So it was just some kid took a gun and shot you?”

   “Called himself the Clementine Kid if that holds any meaning to you. Wanted to rob me so he took a shot. I shot back. Kid’s dead but my bullet ain’t what did it.”

   “Then what did?”

   “Indians.”

   Tom frowned. “Oh.”

   “Don’t feel so bad though. I don’t think he was so innocent. Kid looked like he’d served in the war. Probably done more killing than you and I could imagine.”

   “War will do strange things to a man,” Tom said. “Hell, there’s a fellow in town who fought and came back all nervous and always shaking. He took to hiring whores to tie him to a bed and put scorpions all over his body while he’s lying there naked.”

   Calamaro squinted. “Naked?”

   “Yes sir. I’m pretty sure he wasn’t like that before the war. That’s what I heard. Maybe I’m wrong and maybe he was always a bit crazy.”

   “I’ve noticed that every man has some sort of dirty desire they like to keep hidden,” Calamaro said.

   Tom laughed. “Still, it’s damn queer. I’m glad I didn’t get wrapped up in the fighting. The hell if I was going to risk my ass for something like that.”

   “Sometimes a man don’t got a choice. Everyone around you doing something, you might do it just so you don’t stick out and look peculiar even if that means doing something you’d rather not do.”

   Tom opened his mouth to respond but a noise from the backroom interrupted him. It was a low grunt and then a sound like something heavy hitting the floor.

   “Christ!” Tom ran to the backroom. Calamaro dug into his pockets, pulled out an amount of money he thought the food was worth, and then walked out.

   He wondered why the sheriff hadn’t talked to him yet. Usually when he came through a town, the law met up with him within minutes. They always gave him the same speech about how their town is different from the others and how it would not tolerate trouble of any kind, big or small. Calamaro noticed that the longer the speech, the more corrupt the town. Because the sheriff of Screwhorse did not come out to meet him, Calamaro was more than a little confused. He would have to be prepared for anything.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

   Stacklee leaned in close to Betty’s ear. “Something about those guys bother you, too?”

   “I don’t know. The guy in the mask is weird, I guess. And I hope June is going to be okay with that other one. He scares me.” She looked over at the new customers. Stacklee usually had a knack for judging people so she tried to see what he was seeing.

   Stacklee said, “The guy who went up with June. He doesn’t seem like he’s here to enjoy himself. Looks like he’s just killing time.”

   “Most of the men come in here are killing time. You think there’s something different about him?”

   “He looked like he’s waiting for something to happen or waiting to do something. I just don’t like it.”

   “Keep an eye on him,” Betty said. “What I’m really getting worried about is all that noise from the Indians. Getting worse and worse. I think I saw one of them last night walking around by the church.”

   “I imagine the sheriff’s taking care of it best he could.”

   Betty laughed. “You think Doyle’s going to do anything? Shit.”

   Their conversation was interrupted by the rising din of the Indians outside of town. After a few minutes it tapered off but it left the inhabitants of the brothel unsettled. It wasn’t just drumming this time. There was also a deep voice that sang loudly, echoing through the town like an anxious church bell.

   Stacklee said, “Hey, you want me to check on Mary? Make sure everything’s okay?”

   “Yeah, but try to do it without upsetting Timothy.”

   “Don’t you worry, Betty,” he said. “I’ll treat him like a sweet little baby.”

* * *

   Mary felt disgusted with herself.

   The whole ordeal had been a messy and degrading lesson in what a woman has to do in order to please a man with connections to those in power. Hopefully Timothy would give his uncle, Mayor Douglas, a good report on what the brothel was doing. Maybe he’d even give her a compliment or two. Didn’t the mayor hire girls for private parties that he threw for fellow politicians? Maybe Timothy would recommend Mary for that. There was sure to be a lot of money in it.

   But the disgust was definitely an overwhelming factor as she sat on the bed covered in slime and semen. Timothy was lying on the bed next to her, snoring loudly. What she wanted to do the most was wake him up and get him out of there but since he had paid to stay overnight, there was nothing she could do but wait there just in case he woke up and wanted another screw.

   There was a knock at the door.

   “Mary? It’s Stacklee. You two okay in there?”

   She rushed to the door. “Shhh! He’s sleeping,” Mary said, stepping into the hallway.

   “Lord, look at you. You’re a mess,” Stacklee said. “What’s that smell?”

   “You really don’t want to know the answer to that.”

   “Well, I just wanted to make sure that boy wasn’t giving you any trouble.”

   “No. I’m fine.”

   Stacklee patted her shoulder. “You need anything?”

   “Maybe just a drink. You mind bringing a bottle up here when you get a chance?”

   “Sure thing, Mary. You hang in there,” Stacklee said.

   As she watched him walk away, Mary thought Stacklee would make a good lover though she knew that would be completely inappropriate. Mary would just have to make due with thinking about it.

   She walked back into her room and saw that Timothy was sitting up in bed. He was holding a tentacle over his mouth. “Look, I just grew a mustache!”

   Mary chuckled nervously and walked back to bed. It was going to be a long day.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

   In the hotel, Nix pulled Kersey into a backroom and pushed him up against the wall. “The stranger that came into town, he have a room here?”

   “Which one? There were a few strangers,” Kersey said.

   “The one with the busted up ear.”

   Kersey said, “Yeah.” He wasn’t afraid of Nix. The guy was an overgrown bully who loved throwing his muscle around. The only thing remotely scary about him was the fact that he worked for William Lyons.

   “We’re going to wait here and when he comes in, you’re going tell us, know what I’m saying?”

   “Yes.”

   Nix let go of him and walked out of the room. Ryan giggled and Chaps wore a giant smile.

   Chaps said, “I thought you said William told you to wait for him.”

   “We’re just going to fool with him a bit,” Nix said. He saw Chaps taking out a cigarette. “Put that shit away. You know I can’t stand the smell.”

   Chaps smiled wider, kept the cigarette in his mouth for a few seconds, and then took it out. “Sorry.”

   They walked outside and leaned up against the building. A herd of cattle silently grazed nearby. Ryan said, “You think those are Black Boned Keith’s animals?”

   “Must be. Herds don’t usually come through Screwhorse,” Nix said.

   “Something’s wrong with them cows, you ever notice that?”

   Chaps smiled wildly. “They look fine to me. Fine enough to eat, I’d say. I haven’t had meat in a while.”

   Nix shrugged. “So we’ll get a steak later.”

   Chaps walked away towards the herd. “I don’t want steak.”

   “What the hell you doing?” Ryan said, watching Chaps as he walked up to the nearest cow, got down on his knees and slid underneath.

   Nix squinted. “Shit. What in God’s name?”

   There he was, a skinny little man lying underneath a huge cow, chomping on the beast’s belly. He took mouthful after mouthful of raw beef, tentacles, and milk-filled udders while he giggled. The animal he chewed on did nothing but make low groaning sounds. It didn’t seem too bothered.

   While chowing down, Chaps was back to thinking about his French horn. As he took a particularly thin tentacle into his mouth, he imagined it was the mouthpiece of his horn. He blew into it but there was no sound. Goddamnit, he thought, why did I have to lose that horn?

   Chaps sucked on another tentacle. He hoped Nix was watching and that he was impressed with his sucking skills. Ever since he started working with the guy, he had been attracted to his bravado as well as his muscles. Though Chaps would never consider himself one of those strange men who liked to poke other men in the ass, he could not resist that primal attraction to Nix and he found himself wanting to do just about anything to earn the man’s affection and approval.

   Ryan said, “Chaps, get your skinny ass over here!” He was getting nauseous watching. There was white, green, and black goop all over Chaps’ face.

   Nix put his hands on his hips. “Jesus Christ, this is just disgusting.”

   Chaps stopped. He stood up, let out a thunderous burp, and walked back to Nix and Ryan.

   Nix punched him in chest. “What in the hell was that?”

   “Just wanted to try something new is all,” Chaps said. He smiled and rubbed the spot that had been punched. “We all got to try something new sometime or else life gets a little boring.”